


turn to wax and melt like this

by orphan_account



Series: secondhand rapture [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, now with more sexual tension!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not gonna join me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	turn to wax and melt like this

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story takes place around the beginning of 'find us side by side'. I'd recommend reading that first or you'll be hella confused. And I'm going to be honest, this was just an excuse for me to write Jasey and Bruce fucking around with each other. I have no apologies, okay!!! Also, what was my life before I discovered DC Comics???? Why do bad things happen to good people?

Bruce hears the shower running as soon as he opens his bedroom door.  He tenses automatically, hand clenching at his side for a weapon he doesn’t have.  There are twelve bathrooms in the manor and the odds of Dick or Alfred using his shower instead of their own or one of the spares is laughable at best.  That leaves either Jasey or an intruder.  Jasey’s only been living at the manor for a month and Bruce doesn’t think she’d be that bold but then he hears her begin to sing to herself. 

“ _You can like the life you’re living, you can live the life you like.”_

The bathroom is warm when he opens the door and steps in, heat fogging up the mirror over the sink.  Jasey’s clothes are in a pile on the floor, ripped black jeans and an over-sized white t-shirt crumpled carelessly.  Her lacy pink bra is draped over the towel rack, hiding the monogrammed _W_ on the hand towel.  For a second, Bruce just watches her blurry figure through the glass shower door.  She’s brought her shampoo with her, filling the air with the scent of strawberries and vanilla.  He thinks about how her skin would feel under his hands, warm and wet.  Thinks about pushing her against the shower wall and getting on his knees, putting his mouth on her cunt, making her scream his name.  His mouth actually waters at the thought of it, his fingers twitching restlessly at his sides.  He knows he needs to leave the room, get out before he loses all judgement, but before he can she notices him.  He watches as she slides the door back and cocks her head at him with a grin that almost bowls him over. 

“Hey, B, wanna join me?”

Bruce swallows hard, tries to look in her eyes and not at the curve of her hip visible from the opening in the door.  “Is there something wrong with your shower?” he manages to ask her.

She laughs, loud and bright, all teeth.  “No, I just like yours better.”  Some suds from the shampoo fall down onto her forehead and she gathers them on her fingertips and blows them playfully in his direction.  He looks at her hand, at her scraped palm and bruised knuckles and chipped navy nail polish.  She’s been throwing everything she has into training, with a determined focus that’s almost starting to worry him.  She’s impulsive, reckless, seems to crave danger.  She’s more like him than he cares to admit.

He _wants_. 

He **_can’t_**.

“Jasey, cut it out,” he says, trying to sound stern.  “Hurry up and finish your shower.”

She sticks her bottom lip out, pouting with him.  “You’re not gonna join me?”

Bruce breathes in deep through his nose.  “No.  And we’re discussing what parts of the house belong to you later,” he says and walks back into the bedroom.  She starts singing again, this time from _Moulin Rouge_.  He sinks down onto his bed, runs a hand through his hair.  She’s going to be the death of him.

***

The next morning at breakfast, Bruce has a mouthful of Alfred’s blueberry pancakes and is busy thinking about stock portfolios when Jasey looks up from whatever she’s doing on her phone and asks, “Hey, Bruce, can I use your credit card to buy a vibrator?”

Bruce chokes, the world tilting around him and the word **_vibrator_** ringing in his ears.  Across the table, orange juice is dribbling from Dick’s open mouth, down his chin and onto his shirt.  Alfred, who had been dusting the china cabinet in the corner, has disappeared.

“Wha-?”  Bruce coughs, tries again.  “What did you say?”  He tries to arrange his face into a stern, pissed-off expression, but he fears his eyes are falling too far out of his skull to convey the message.  The mental image of Jasey stretched out naked on her bed, hips pushing up against-.  _Stop_ , Bruce’s conscience screams at him.  _Stop thinking about her that way._

Jasey is looking at him with a straight face, her hands now folded demurely under her chin.  “What’s wrong?” she asks innocently.  “I’ll pay you back.  It’s just hard sometimes to come with just my fingers and-“ 

_Fuck, I don’t need that mental image, too._

“Okay!” Dick shouts, shoving his hands over his hands.  “I don’t need to hear this!”

“Oh, like you don’t jerk off at least-“

“Lalala!  I can’t hear you!”

“Enough!” Bruce shouts.  He rubs his temple wearily.

 Jasey is still the picture of innocence.  She takes a bite of her pancakes with an almost sadistic expression of glee on her face.  “You’re not mad at me, are you, B?” she asks, her voice sickly sweet.  “I didn’t think it would hurt to ask.”

Bruce counts to ten in his head.


End file.
